On Needs and Expectations
by Geormioned
Summary: It's the beginning of the 1st school year after Hogwarts has been rebuilt; everyone is required to attend. Harry and Ron have both moved on, but Hermione is stuck. Draco does his best to bring her out of it, even though he has been shunned by their society, but he quickly realizes he never knew how far she was willing to go to forget - putting herself in danger again and again.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione sat in the very back of the library, attempting to study for the upcoming Ancient Runes pop quiz that the professor had told her, and her alone, would be handed out tomorrow. Studying, once her favorite past time, often used as an escape from the world around her, was now a struggle and a burden as everyone knew where to find her and constantly pestered her or stared at her, whether with awe or pity it didn't matter, both were annoying and unwelcome.

After the war had ended, Ron and Harry had petitioned the Ministry of Magic to excuse them from their final year at Hogwarts, but were denied. Hermione was at first delighted, wanting nothing more than to return to a well-worn routine, but quickly realized that wasn't how things would ever be again. Each class had empty chairs, left behind by students who would never return; each person, student and teacher a like, avoided certain hallways or classrooms, haunted by the memories that magic couldn't wipe away. Too many people could see the terrifying thestrals that pulled the carriages to the castle.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the "Golden Trio," the heroes of the wizarding world – a weight none of them cared to carry, but that none of them would turn their backs on. They continued on, day after day, acting as if everything was normal, wishing others would do the same. Ron and Hermione kept up the charade of a relationship, even though they both realized soon after the Battle of Hogwarts that they could never be together in that way. Their friendship was defined by what they had been through together, and apart, and neither could help the other move on, which is what they each desperately needed.

They walked each other to class, held hands in the Great Hall, and gave shared quick pecks goodnight, if only to encourage others to believe that life could go on. Ron had a secret relationship with Luna Lovegood, which was going quite well, and Hermione was ... well Hermione was coping in every unhealthy way she could think of, not wanting to truly attach herself to any one person and drag them down with her.

She was in the library, staring at her books, reviewing these facts in her mind and planning her next outing, when she realized the library was suddenly quiet. It was a silence to rival that which Ms. Pince had enforced and which the new librarian had never been able to achieve. Hermione let out a sigh she hadn't realized she had been holding in, not caring what caused the decrease in noise, but appreciating it for the few seconds it was going to last.

She heard it first and then saw a wand being pushed slowly into her field of vision as she held her head in her hands, elbows on the table on either side of the large tome of Ancient Runes she was reviewing. She moved lithely in one fluid motion, standing up while pushing the chair she had been sitting in loudly across the stone floor, wand raised and ready to meet her attacker.

Before her stood Draco Malfoy, the last person she had expected. Not even pureblood Malfoy had escaped the war unscathed, a fact she was constantly reminded of as she saw him throughout the castle alone, always alone. All of the children of Voldemort's deatheaters now avoided each other like the plague and avoided Draco most of all.

He hadn't moved an inch since she had risen from her seat. He didn't seem affected by the sudden movement or the loud sounds she had caused. Instead, he slowly lifted his hand from his wand, leaving it next to the book she had been reading, and walked back to his chair at the table next to hers.

"What's this?" she questioned, the tension in her voice evident.

"You need people to leave you alone and no one will come near me," he said matter-of-factly before continuing, "I figured someone should benefit from my magnificent ability to be ostracized and I knew that you would be more comfortable if I was wandless."

She quickly retrieved his wand from the table, never taking her eyes off of him. She watched him carefully for a few minutes before returning to her lesson. They sat like that for an hour. She held both wands in one hand, occasionally using the tip of one to turn the page, and he sat at the other table, reading The Daily Prophet. Eventually, Hermione interrupted him.

She stood beside him, her book in the crook of her left arm, bearing most of its weight against her hip, pointing both of the wands at him with her right hand. "After you," she said without any feeling in her voice, pointing towards the library entrance. He understood, and walked out before her into the more public area of the library. Once there, surrounded by students and professors, she handed him back his wand and walked out the double doors without so much as a thank you or an acknowledgement of any sort.

He had expected that.


	2. Chapter 2

On the third day of this odd arrangement, Hermione's stomach began to grumble, loudly. She had been so caught up in her reading and forgot to go to lunch. She would have skipped dinner as well if her stomach hadn't betrayed her with its growl. Almost instantly a house elf appeared.

"Miss Granger is hungry. What does she want to eat?" said a very high-pitched voice.

Her attention now drawn to the sound, Hermione saw the smallest house elf she had ever seen. The female elf was looking down at her feet, hands behind her back, left foot rubbing an itch on the top of her right, her bent head barely reaching the height the chair Hermione sat in. Instantly Hermione's demeanor changed from uninterested studying (she still hadn't figured out why her former passion no longer held no appeal to her) to kindness, tenderness, and excitement. "Are you new here at Hogwarts?"

"No ma'am. I was born here, but only just came of age to serve outside the kitchens. I am four now ma'am."

"You are very old indeed," replied Hermione, trying to hide her outrage at this child being forced to serve her. She was sick of children doing the work that adults were too scared or too proud to do themselves. "And your name?"

"Oh no ma'am, my name is unimportant. What would Miss Granger like to eat ma'am?"

"Please call me Hermione. And your name is very important to me; please tell me."

"Oh no ma'am, I shan't, to both requests. Would Miss Granger like a sandwich, maybe with some soup?" the elf replie, smiling at the thought of getting to be of service, practically bouncing on her feet.

"Not until…"

"Her name is Daisy," Draco interrupts, lazily lowering his book down with a roll of his eyes, "it took me four hours to get her to tell me, and I didn't want to relive that, so I'll just tell you; her name is Daisy," and with that he lifted the book, once again blocking his face from view.

"Is this true? Don't lie." Hermione asks, sweetly yet firmly of the she-elf before her.

"Yes, it is ma'am, although the bad man should not have told Miss that," Daisy responded, frowning at Malfoy.

Hermione almost fell from her chair. Did a Hogwarts house elf just speak poorly of a Hogwarts student? She waited for the child elf to begin to punish herself but it never came. Daisy just stood in front of her and began bouncing once again on the balls of her feet.

"Yes, Daisy, a sandwich and soup would be most welcome," Hermione says, wanting to question Draco on his experience with this elf, privately.

"As you wish Miss," says the smallest elf, before turning a cold eye on Draco, "Will Sir have anything to eat?"

"Just my usual Miss Daisy," never taking his eyes from the page.

Again Hermione almost fell to the floor. Did Draco Malfoy just call a house elf "Miss?" No, she must have heard wrong.

"I have asked you repeatedly not to call me that Sir. I am here only to happily serve, no fancy titles are necessary," the young elf rebuked Draco.

"Yes, yes, I know Miss Daisy. And you know I won't stop, so please bring Miss Granger her food before she withers away in front of me." He went back to his book, as if something in _Transfiguration in Seventeenth Century China_ was more interesting than what had just happened.

A few moments later the house elf reappeared with Hermione's soup and sandwich, both in beautifully decorated ceramic dishes and served to her on an ornate wooden platter. She hastily placed two pieces of burnt toast on the table in front of Malfoy, not even providing a plate. He reached past his book, grabbing the top piece of toast and bring it to his mouth behind the book, took a bite with a loud crunching sound, and mumbled, "Thank you Miss Daisy," before the house elf could get away.

Hermione's thoughts were no longer on the book in front of her. She could only replay the sound of Draco's voice using a title when speaking to a house elf - a sound she had never expected to hear in her life.


	3. Chapter 3

This continued each day for several weeks. Soon, Hermione didn't even look up when the wand came across the table, simply picking it up and adding it to the one she never let go of. No rumors were started about the pair, no one daring to question Hermione Granger's loyalty to Ron Weasley, and everyone being able to see and hear that they never spoke to each other or even acknowledged the other's presence.

On a Friday, Draco entered the library room he had begun to think of as theirs, and was surprised to see that Hermione didn't already have her nose in a book. Instead she stood, pacing from shelf to shelf, twisting a curl of hair repeatedly around her index finger. She stopped when she heard him come in and look up, quickly releasing her bottom lip from her teeth, not wanting to appear anything other than completely put together.

Salazaar help him, he wanted to bite that lip, but he remained stoic as ever. He held his wand out in his open hand, tip pointing at him, and walked towards her slowly, not wanting to frighten her. She took a step back automatically before catching herself and taking two steps forward to meet him in the middle of the room they had shared for the past month and a half.

"You said you did this because I needed it," she said, her tone falling somewhere between a question and a statement.

"Yes," he replied, wondering why he still held his wand.

"Would you be willing to do something else, if I needed it?" she questioned, emphasizing the word needed.

"Yes," he said, simply, without asking what it might be.

"Good," she said, smiling and pushing his wand back into his own hand, "You might need this later."

She walked past him, out of the study room and out of the library. He followed, a few steps behind, until they were outside of the castle walls. Before he knew what had happened, he felt her hand in his and a familiar tug at his navel. They had apparated out of Hogwarts' grounds.

They landed a few seconds later, both managing not to fall to their hands and knees. He felt her hand leave his and he fought the instinct to reach for her. He looked around, not knowing exactly where they were. It was London, of course, but where?

She walked around a corner into an alley and he followed, knowing somehow that's what she wanted him to do. He found her standing in the dark alley, stuffing her school robes into a small purse he knew had been enchanted to be bigger on the inside. After tucking the last piece of black fabric into the bag, she pulled out a pair of black high heel shoes, exchanging them for the black flats she wore at school. He couldn't see more than this, as the alley way had no lighting.

She held one hand out to him, the other hanging on to the purse. He took off his school robes, giving them to her to be stowed away in her unending purse, but not before tucking his wand into the front pocket of his black jeans.

Not a word had been spoken since they had apparated, and he didn't want to be the first one to break the silence, although he was curious as to how she had managed to apparate out of Hogwarts since it was supposed to be impossible

"I only need you to do this once," she started, "Ron and Harry usually do it, but they're both off with their girlfriends, and I need it, so you'll have to do." She was walking past him into the street. He started to follow but stopped mid step when the light hit her. She was wearing the 5 inch high heels she had put on in the alley, a much-too-short-for-Hermione-Granger skirt that moved easily back and forth against her body, and a dark blue shirt with a plunging neckline. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail high on her head, making her curls bounce with each step she took.

This was not how he has intended the night to go.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco's first thought was something along the lines of "where the hell is she stowing her wand in an outfit like that?" but his first words were, "Where are we going?"

"A nightclub." He stopped in his tracks, knowing that she was fully aware of how much he avoided being in public places.

"A muggle club," she shouted over her shoulder as the noise from city night life began to grow around them.

"Oh," he said simply, moving forward again, trying to catch up to Hermione who kept flitting in and out of his vision as she moved among the crowds of people. When had being around muggles become cause for relief, he thought to himself, smirking at the irony.

He had finally caught up to her and she started talking, "Here's what I need: you keep me out of trouble, don't let anyone touch my drink, don't let anyone touch me, if I go to the bathroom, make sure I come out in a few minutes so I'm not passed out or getting groped, and make sure I'm back in the castle by two."

He took it all in slowly, realizing this was a list she had memorized and rehearsed due its frequent use. The noise of the city was increasing around them and he could hear the thump of loud music somewhere ahead of them.

She continued, "You're not to drink anything except water, but I'll drink what I want. Also, I'll dance with who I want, when I want, how I want and you're not to interfere unless they start trying to take advantage, got it?" She stopped, looking up at Malfoy, who simply nodded, without smile or judgment in his eyes.

She walked along a row of nightclubs before finding the one she was looking for. Of course it would be the loudest one, he thought. A line had formed outside the door, but Hermione walked up to the bouncer and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and he let her in. Draco started to follow, but was cut off from her by the bouncer's very large forearm. "He's with me, Joe," she stated, and the forearm lifted, allowing him access.

It was a scene he's been in before, except there were no glasses of amber liquids being carried by bewitched trays that appeared to float in the air, no house elves quickly cleaning up the spilled drinks and vomit, no Wrock playing through the speakers. In fact, he didn't recognize this music at all.

He followed Hermione who made a beeline for the bar. The barman immediately ignored the other customers as his favorite one appeared. Draco didn't like the way the bartender's eyes roamed over her body, but Hermione didn't seem to notice. She shouted over the music, "The usual, Ben, and a water for my friend," pointing her thumb over her shoulder at Draco. "With lime," Draco shouted too, adding to her order.

Their drinks were delivered promptly, Hermione's with a smile and Malfoy's with a sneer. He smiled to himself, liking how it felt for others to assume she was here with him. His thoughts were interrupted though, and his smiled faded, as she ordered a second drink, her first one already empty.

Three more songs played and Hermione sat on a barstool while Draco leaned on the bar to her left, sipping his water. She finished her second drink and ordered two shots of vodka. She downed them both, one after the other, pursing her lips and shaking her head from the burn. He wanted to make her throat burn from screaming his name.

With each passing song and each disappearing drink, Hermione seemed to lighten, as if something heavy had been lifted from her back. She started to dance in her seat, bouncing slightly from side to side. Draco saw multiple men staring at the stool with envy, and rolled his eyes at how she had no idea what she was doing to these poor muggle men.

Eventually a man finally approached her, took her hand, and led her on the dance floor. "About damn time," muttered Draco, knowing that it would never be him, but if it could, her ass wouldn't have had a chance to touch that chair before he took her in his arms to dance.

He kept an eye on her as she was led into the middle of the floor. The stranger, at least to Draco, was an inch shorter than he was and much less toned, wearing khaki pants and a bright purple polo; he looked ridiculous. He seemed older, maybe in his mid-thirties, but Hermione didn't seem to mind. The fog machine kept filling the room and there were at least a hundred other bodies, but Draco never lost sight of her. At first she barely moved, only swaying from side to side as the man's hands were loosely around her waist. Then the song switched to something she recognized and she changed her dancing to match the song.

The tempo was fast, the music loud, and the lyrics suggestive. She turned in his arms, pulling his hands tighter around her body, pressing herself against the length of this stranger and grinding her hips into his groin. Her hands were over her head, her elbows bent and her fingers gently touching his shoulders as she began to lower her body to the ground, fingers trailing down his chest, never stopping the swaying of her hips. Then she straightened her knees so her ass would push up against him and her skirt would slip higher up her body.

Damn, she does know what she's doing, Malfoy thought. He saw this, in detail, as well as the way the man pushed his hips against her, eyes closed, head tilted back and mouth slightly open. His hands started to separate, one going further up her body towards her breasts and the other going down, slipping the tips beneath the waist of her skirt. Draco started to move forward, ready to kill a complete and total stranger, when she looked up quickly, shook her head and pushed his hands away from those areas, back to the center of her flat but soft midriff, never stopping her dance. Draco retreated back to the bar - he hadn't been needed.

After what felt to him like a lifetime, it was 2 am. He approached Hermione, who had never set foot off the dance floor instead sending the stranger to get her drinks. Both their eyes were closed as they moved their bodies together. Draco resisted the urge to crucio the man and opted to tap Hermione on the shoulder. They both looked up and before the man could take a step towards Malfoy, who was only too eager to beat him black and blue, she turned to the stranger and said, "Got to go. Curfew," and with a quick peck on the man's cheek, grabbed Draco's hand, led him off the dance floor, out the door, and back to the apparition point. Not once did his hand unclench from a fist.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning Draco sat at the end of the Slytherin table, eating his meal of cold oatmeal and burnt toast without complaint, but not without feeling the burning stares of Potter and Weasley as they tried to kill him with their eyes. He smirked without meeting their eyes but knowing they saw it. They knew she had taken him and they were waiting to see if she had survived his attack. He waited too.

She entered the Great Hall and walked to her seat at the Gryffindor table with only a slight stumble, still hung over. Weasley and Potter immediately barraged her with questions to which she waved them away with a frown before digging into her meal. After a few mouthfuls she engaged in conversation with them, obviously explaining everything. Occassionally glances were cast his way, but he continued his reading. Eventually he felt the stares fade and looked up to find them all enjoying a laugh at something Ron had done. He let out a breathe of relief, knowing he had passed this small test.

* * *

"So Potter and Weasley are ok with this little arrangement?" Malfoy asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Hermione looked up from her textbook. They were in the library, studying as always. "No, they hate it actually," she let out with a huff.

"So why…?"

He was cut off. Hermione had set the book on the table, had sat up in her chair, and was looking Malfoy directly in the eyes across the table, wanting to be sure that he heard this, because she only wanted to say it once, "Because I saved their bloody lives and they owe me." She clenched her fingers tighter around the two wands she held, "They owe me anything that could possibly take my mind off of what I went through and they know it, and I know it, and this is all I've found so far, so they just do it. They have their girlfriends and I have my drinking and dancing. It's not much, but it's better than nothing." With that, she considered the conversation over with and went back to her studying, slowly letting her hands relax over their wands.

Malfoy didn't push the situation further, knowing that she had revealed all she would. He hated it too, although he was sure the reasons for his hatred were different than Potter's and Weasley's. They hated it because it pulled them from their girlfriends, kept them up late, and, sure, they hated seeing their friend be used for her body. Draco, on the other hand, hated it for so much more; for instance, how she deserved so much more than a short thrill at the hands of cheap alcohol and sleazy men. He could give her more, and he was determined to. But not now, not yet, not until she needed him to.

* * *

On Friday, during the noon meal, a small owl landed right in Malfoy's bowl of cold cereal, sloshing milk everywhere as it flapped its wings in an attempt to get out. After getting over his initial surprise, both at getting mail and at being covered in cold milk, Malfoy managed to help the bird out of the bowl with gentleness, get his sopping wet letter off of it's leg, and nipped at several times for not having any treats. The owl flew off, dripping milk over everyone it passed.

The parchment was soaked, but the ink had not run. There was a single word to make out.

**Again**.

It was not a question and not quite a command. He deemed it a request. His stomach sunk, not wanting to do this, but knowing that he would anyway. It was Friday.

* * *

He met her at the apparition point, intertwining his fingers in hers before they landed at their destination and quickly letting go before she could ask questions. She repeated the act of changing clothes in the alley and this time Draco was prepared. Instead of his Hogwarts approved attire, he wore dark denim jeans, a gray T-shirt that hugged stretched over his biceps, and comfortable shoes. At least this time he was fully aware that he would be standing for the next several hours.

The night continued much the same as the last – two cocktails, two shots, change of song, a sorry-excuse-for-a-man finally got up the courage to talk to her, and she's off, dancing away her pain.

Around midnight, Hermione was pulling her gentleman caller off of the dance floor, giggling. They walked together out of the door, but not before Hermione turned to check that Malfoy was still with her. He followed them, walking several feet behind, to the man's hotel, up to the 6th floor, and outside of room 627 before the man noticed Malfoy's presence.

"What the hell?" he slurred, angrily, looking as if he wanted to punch Malfoy in the face. Please do, Malfoy thought to himself in disgust, wanting a reason to beat him to a pulp.

"No, no, honey," Hermione said, shushing the man, "it's ok." She looked back at Malfoy, whose face revealed no emotion, and turned back to her soon-to-be one night stand, "He's just my insurance policy. You see, he's going to kick your ass if you hurt me, or if you don't stop when I want you to." She giggled again.

The drunk man looked from her to Malfoy, slowly as his reflexes were beyond impaired. Malfoy hadn't smiled this much in a very long time. He was happy to hear that Hermione knew his intentions, and was, in her own way, giving him permission to destroy this muggle if it came to it.

"Whatever," mumbled the drunk, and opened the door to his hotel room.

Hermione watched him stumble his way to the bed before turning to Malfoy. "This won't take long. Here, wear these," she handed him two ear plugs, "you don't need to hear this," and shut the door in his face.


End file.
